


Staring Down the Rabbit Hole

by LawrenceKinden



Series: Fauxtobiographical Summer [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, F/M, Neighbors, Niece, Panties, Pool, Spanking, Summer, Trampoline, barebottom, sleep overs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrenceKinden/pseuds/LawrenceKinden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series 1 of the Fauxtobiographical Summer</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I'd always wanted to spank a girl. Ever since I was a child myself, I'd always wanted to have a girl lying across my lap, to pull her panties down, and to spank her naked bottom until it was bright red. I wanted this even though my own parents spanked me until I was fourteen and I knew how humiliating and painful it was. I wanted it all through my teenage years and through college. Every time I saw a pretty girl I might be interested in, I would begin imagining what it would be like to spank her. As I transitioned from childhood to teenager-dom, my imaginings began to include sex, but the spanking always came first.

I met Maureen at work. She was a new Literacy teacher and I was to be her mentor for her first year in the school. We were married that summer. I quickly learned that though she liked to have her bottom smacked during sex, she wasn't into spanking in the way I was. Which was fine. I adored her and she liked me and we got along well. I had thought, had hoped, that getting married might curb my interest in spanking.

It didn't.

Whenever I saw a cute girl: at work, on the street, on a date, I couldn't help but imagine spanking her. My wife knew that I looked at other women and admitted she looked at other men; she knew that I was into spanking and I knew that she was into biting; we kept our wandering to looks and indulged each other's kinks.

But I kept the ubiquitous obsessiveness of my spanking kink from her.

~*~

The Smith family moved in next door as spring became summer. They had five daughters: aged seventeen, fifteen, fourteen, twelve, and ten. On the other side of the fence, the pool that had gone unused for years was suddenly home to five dark-skinned nubile nymphets in various states of undress. They had a large trampoline and a tree house and spent much of their time in the backyard. To make matters worse, my office, on the second floor, had a small balcony where I liked to sit in the summer to work on whatever novel my agent had prioritized. I found that my attention often wavered to the Smiths' backyard or deep within my own imaginings.

In my imaginings, I realized that the Smith girls' bottoms wouldn't turn red in the way I thought about spankings, their skin was too dark. I wondered whether there would be any noticeable change if they were to be spanked.

That was also the summer our niece came to stay with us.

Technically Isabel was my wife's cousin, but she was only eleven, daughter of my wife's youngest aunt, Karen. Karen was going through a sudden and ugly divorce and Isabel would be staying with us for the summer. Isabel was a fantastic kid: smart, nice, witty, but I knew from the first day she stayed with us that this was not going to be the quiet, writing filled summer vacation I'd grown used to. Isabel was mad at her parents, and my wife and I were going to be the ones dealing with it.

On a blisteringly hot afternoon, a few days after Aunt Karen had left Isabel with us, I was wandering about the kitchen in a semi-dream state, my mind on far-off worlds of never-been, mixing oddly with potential lesson plans for next year, when suddenly my wife's frustrated voice cut through it all. "If you do that again, I'm going to spank you, Isabel. Don't forget what your mom said."

That caught me off guard. My wife and I didn't have kids and we planned not to, but I had always thought that if ever we did, she'd be a non-spanker. I knew I certainly would be if for no other reason than that my kink would make it way-squicky. Further, I had thought that Aunt Karen would be a non-spanker. Had she really given my wife permission to spank Isabel? I bit my tongue and slowed my breathing, listening from the kitchen to my wife's sewing room, where she spent most of her time of a summer.

There was some murmured conversation that I couldn't make out. From the backdoor, open to the summer, the sounds of the Smith girls splashing in their pool was suddenly very loud. Then came the sharp crack of hand on bottom: once, twice, thrice. Isabel yelped.

I waited for a few minutes in case it happened again, but the spanking did not continue, and I slipped upstairs, my heart racing, not knowing what to think. On the one hand, I adored Isabel, and the thought that she'd been spanked broke my heart. On the other, to have been ear-witness to a real spanking of a little girl in my own house was as close to my fantasies as I'd ever been. That I enjoyed it made me feel horrible, but that didn't keep me from having enjoyed it.

~*~

I sat at my desk, staring though my writing project without seeing it. All I could think about was Isabel's spanking.

It was the sound of another spanking that cut through my thoughts. I stood quickly and looked around. The sound had been so sharp and clear that, for a moment, I thought Isabel was being spanked here in my office. A few moments later, I realized it was Jade, the second youngest Smith girl, who was getting a spanking, just on the poolside, with two of her sisters watching. Mrs. Wanda Smith was a single mom with a kind smile and no-nonsense attitude. I hadn't known that she was also a spanker. Jade got six spanks over her swim-suit before her mother sent her off to her room. Jade hurried away, rubbing her little bottom, crying.

Soon, the sounds of playing from the backyard resumed. In my head, the two, sudden spankings, Isabel's and Jade's, mixed and I imagined the girls over my own knees, their bare bottoms beneath my hand.

That night, when I climbed into bed, I kissed my wife's neck as she lay on her side reading. I put my hand on her hip as I nuzzled her and kissed her again, harder this time, sucking just a little. She groaned and I kissed her again, ending it in a sharp little bite. She gasped and turned onto her belly, which was all the invitation I needed to smack her bottom before kissing her again. I bit her neck, leaving half a dozen little bruises, just the way she liked it. I spanked her, making her bottom pinkish-red, just the way I liked it. Then, still face down, she lifted her bottom and eased her thighs, and we made sweaty love, trying not to be too loud with Isabel in the guest room just down the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

Anna was the youngest Smith girl at ten, and Jade was second youngest at twelve. As Isabel was eleven, right in between, she quickly became friends with the two neighbor girls, and they could be found just as often at their place playing in the Smith's pool as at our place playing video games on my Playstation. Soon, they were staying the night at our place and vice-versa. On that first night, as the girls were busy chatting in the guest room, Mrs. Wanda Smith was sitting with us on our patio, enjoying the late afternoon light of summer and a glass of red wine.

"They're good girls, Wanda," my wife said in response to something Mrs. Smith had said. My mind had been wandering. "I'm sure there'll be no problem."

"Well, just know that you can send them home any time if they give you any trouble. Or just spank them yourselves if you're comfortable with it. God knows I give out far more spankings than I'd like, and the girls are used to it."

I was certain that the two women must have heard my hammering heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest. I hadn't thought Mrs. Smith would give us permission to spank her girls. Surely it wouldn't be necessary, and even if it was, I wouldn't be the one to do it.

"I've had to spank Isabel a couple of times," my wife replied. "We can do it if necessary."

A couple? We? I thought.

"Well that's good," Wanda said. "I knew I could trust you. I'll have enough to worry about tonight with Elizabeth out on a date."

Elizabeth was the oldest Smith girl, the only one old enough to drive at seventeen.

I gave a mock growl. "Boys are nothing but trouble. Did you approve of this date?"

Mrs. Smith smiled at me. "I did not," she replied, "but Elizabeth informed me that at seventeen she was more than old enough to decide who she dates." She sighed melodramatically and we all shared a chuckle.

Ten o'clock was bedtime during summer vacation, or so my wife informed the girls at nine-thirty. Though they whined, they got dressed for bed. I couldn't help but notice that all three little girls wore thin nighties and no panties, probably due to the heat of summer. I got far more flashes of bare girlhood in the next thirty seconds than should have been possible. I excused myself from the next hour or so by claiming I'd suddenly had a brilliant idea for my next scene and retreated to my study.

At around midnight, I entered the bedroom to find my wife already asleep. I took off her glasses and put them and the book she'd been reading on her nightstand before clicking off the lmap and sliding into bed beside her. It seemed I had only just closed my eyes when a burst of high-pitched giggling cut through the night. My wife sat up as though pricked. She threw the blankets aside furiously.

"My love?" My voice stopped her.

"That's the third time," she growled.

My heart began hammering. "Oh. Uh... do you maybe want me to go tell them to quiet down?"

She nodded and sat back on the bed even as another volley of giggling struck the night.

"That's a good idea. I'm out of patience," she said.

So I padded down the hall to the guest bedroom and knocked on the door. The effect was immediate, the whispers and giggles that had been clearly audible a moment before cut off. I opened the door a crack, spilling light into the hallway. I poked my head in to find three little girls under the covers of the queen-sized bed, their eyes closed as though asleep.

"Girls," I said, my tone admonishing, "I know you're not asleep."

Isabel opened her eyes, looking relieved. "I thought you were Aunt Maureen," she whispered.

"Well," I said, "she was all set to come in here." Jade and Anna opened their eyes too. "I take it she's had to visit with you once already?"

Three contrite little girls nodded.

"Did she threaten to spank you?" I asked. My voice nearly caught on the word 'spank', but they didn't notice.

The three girls nodded again.

I took a breath to settle my voice. "Well, I think she's serous, so settle down, all right?"

Maureen was dozing when I came back in and cuddled up next to me as I joined her in bed. "Thank you. I love you, my love."

I don't know how long it was before the next barrage of giggles came, but when it did, my wife was out the door and down the hall before I knew it. Without thinking, I followed her and stood just outside the door. I didn't watch, I just listened as she told Isabel to turn over, despite Isabel's pleas and cries, then spanked her sharply five times. Anna and Jade only got three each and, though I can't be certain, I think they weren't quite as hard. I was torn, both wanting it to continue and not, both wanting to be the one to do the spanking and not.

My wife was breathing hard when she came back out into the hall, three crying little girls left behind. I put my arm around her shoulders and led her back to bed.

"Do you think that was too much?" she asked.

I shrugged.

We weren't woken by giggle girls again that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Bailee was the middle Smith girl. She was the quiet, bookish type. Once her little sisters began hanging out over at our place, Bailee learned that our smallest guest room had been set up as a library and she asked if she could come over to borrow some books. Of course, we didn't mind, and so sometimes I'd walk from my study to the library and find Bailee Smith curled in one of our large chairs, reading quietly. Sometimes she wouldn't even notice my entrance.

My wife had taken Anna, Isabel, and Jade to the fabric store to do some shopping for a quilt project she was planning with the girls, so I had the house to myself. I found myself suddenly in need for information on medieval aqueducts, and so wandered from my study to the library. When I entered, I found that Bailee was there. She was on her knees, looking at a book on the bottom shelf, and I was treated to the site of her bottom clad in bright pink panties under the thin pink summer dress she wore.

"Whoa," I said suddenly, pulling my robe tight about me as I was clad only in boxers and that robe.

Bailee squeaked in surprise and jumped to her feet. She smoothed her dress down, embarrassed. I don't know if she knew she'd shown off her panties or just suspected. I'm sure my own cheeks were bright red.

"Uh... sorry," I said.

"No, it's all right. It's your library," Bailee replied.

"Uh..." I laughed, and Bailee laughed and the awkward tension broke. "I just need to find a book," I said.

A day or two later, it happened again. I was fully clothed this time, and my wife was in her sewing room and Isabel was in her bedroom. I wandered from my study to the library and found Bailee, this time on the step ladder, reaching for a book on the top shelf. Her reaching had hiked her skirt up to show that this time she had no panties on at all.

"Oh!"

My exclamation startled her and she slipped from the ladder to land hard on her butt, the book she'd been reaching for falling to the floor beside her. Bailee apologized tearfully as I helped her up and to one of the chairs. She rubbed her bottom vigorously.

"It's fine," I told her as I handed her the book. "But... you should really think about wearing shorts if you're going to wear a dress."

"I'm sorry, Mr. K.," she said again. "Mommy just spanked me." She realized then what she'd said and blushed, covering her mouth.

I smiled gently. "Sorry. Are you all right?"

Bailee nodded. "I, uh, failed math last year. I love literacy, but hate math. I told mommy I'd been studying over here, but then I failed a test for this online summer course I'm taking. She was real mad."

"Oh. Are you supposed to be studying now?"

Bailee bit her lip and nodded. "I told her you were tutoring me."

"But, I'm a literacy teacher, not a math teacher."

Bailee shrugged. "You're not going to spank me, are you? Or tell my mom?"

I bit my tongue. Of course, I wanted to spank her. I wanted to tell her lying was naughty and using me to lie to her mother was naughty and that I was going to spank her bare bottom. But I didn't.

"You shouldn't lie to your mother," I said.

Bailee burst into tears. "I know!" she wailed.

A few minutes later, she was still crying into my shoulder when my wife came to check on what all the noise was. I mouthed to her "I'll explain later," and she nodded, gave us a tender smile and closed the door behind her.

When she was done crying, I had her show me her math work. It was Algebra I, and we learned lesson 2.8 together. My wife made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup and she and Bailee and Isabel and I sat around the kitchen counter telling jokes as we ate. Then I sent her home to take the test again.

That evening, Isabel asked if we could all go over to the Smith's and swim.

Mrs. Smith poured us some red wine and we lounged on her patio while all the girls but Elizabeth played in the pool. Elizabeth was out on a date again. "Bailee says she has you to thank for passing her test this afternoon." Mrs. Smith said. "I thought you were a literacy teacher."

I shrugged. "I had to learn it again myself." We both laughed.

"If you don't mind, I'd appreciate if you'd tutor her. I can pay you."

I waved off the offer of payment. I knew Mrs. Smith was incredibly busy with work and being a single mother. "I'm happy to help."

"You're a peach. And if she gives you any trouble or needs some extra motivation, she knows you have my permission to spank her."

I laughed in what I hoped was a gentle manner. "I don't think that'll be necessary."


	4. Chapter 4

Just as we had permission to spank the Smith girls, so did Mrs. Smith have permission to spank Isabel. I had no idea if Aunt Karen had given this permission, or just Maureen, but I decided to stay out of it. I had no doubt that Mrs. Smith was a fair and judicious spanker. But Mrs. Smith was often busy and had to work a lot, and so oftentimes it was Elizabeth who watched her little sisters and Isabel when they were in the pool during the day.

Though Mrs. Smith had had to warn Isabel several times, she'd only had to spank my niece once. I'd overheard Isabel telling Jade that she was much more scared of Mrs. Smith's spankings than Maureen's.

"Yeah," said Jade. "Your Aunt Mo is sweet and all, but she's not a very good spanker. I mean, last time she didn't even pull my panties down."

It was early, the sun just barely risen. I sat in my study, editing a scene, waiting for my algebra buddy to show up. From the Smith's yard, I could hear the rhythmic sound of the trampoline. Rachel, the second eldest Smith girl at fifteen, was doing backflips and frontflips and twists and spins. Rachel was the athletic one of the Smith girls and spent most of her days at sport camps. She often spent time on the trampoline before heading to a nearby park where a soccer camp was being run.

I stood and looked out the window. Rachel was in a skirt and tank top, and her trampoline jumping flounced her skirt, showing off her bright white panties and her long, dark legs.

Bailee's giggle from the door of my study brought me up short. I blushed.

"She does that a lot," Bailee said, coming up to stand beside me. She either ignored my embarrassment or didn't notice. "Mommy doesn't like it when she does," Bailee continued. "Says it isn't lady like."

I cleared my throat. "Are you ready to study?"

Bailee nodded and we turned to go to the library, but we were stopped by the sudden sound of a spanking. We both went back to the window to see Elizabeth holding Rachel by the arm, swatting her skirt-clad backside with the palm of her hand, scolding her under the sound of the spanking.

Bailee winced. "Lizzy spanks hard," she said quietly.

As the oldest, I supposed it made a certain sense that Elizabeth would have the authority to spank her little sisters, but Rachel was only two years younger. A seventeen-year-old girl spanking a fifteen-year-old girl struck a chord with a phase of my fantasies and I bit my tongue hard to keep from staring.

~*~

Bailee and I studied lessons 3.2 and 3.3 for a few hours before my wife called us down to breakfast. Rachel and Elizabeth didn't join us, but Jade and Isabel and Anna did. Then the girls went to swim, and I went back to my study. I asked Bailee if she wanted to keep studying, but she said she'd rather swim and get back to studying this afternoon.

After a while, the happy squeals and laughter were replaced by the pained squeals of yet another spanking. Again, I stood at the window and I saw Elizabeth giving a spanking, this time with little Anna over her knees, still dripping pool water, bare to the world since her one-piece had been pulled down, getting a thorough spanking. And when she was done, Isabel was next. I hadn't realized that Mrs. Smith's permission to spank Isabel would translate to Elizabeth having permission to spank Isabel as well. Isabel's swim-suit bottoms were pulled down, and I noticed that her pale bottom turned pink quickly while Anna's hadn't changed at all. Elizabeth, it seemed, was a much better spanker than my wife.

Once the little girls were spanked, Elizabeth said, "And don't let me catch you doing that again," before going back in the house.

Bailee comforted Anna and Isabel with a quick hug, and only minutes later the girls were splashing and playing again.

I spent the afternoon replaying the spankings in my head, over and over.


	5. Chapter 5

Mrs. Smith was working late and Elizabeth was out with her boyfriend, so we had the girls: Rachel (who protested that fifteen was too old for a sitter), Bailee (who didn't care about having a sitter even though she was fourteen), Jade (who just like having an excuse to play with Isabel), Isabel (likewise), and Anna (also likewise). We only had one guest room. Jade, Isabel, and Anna were happy to share it. Bailee volunteered to sleep in a chair in the library, and Rachel the couch in the den.

The little girls set up impromptu karaoke in the den, Bailee went to the library to read, but Rachel was restless. I wandered to the kitchen for a soda and found her there, juggling a soccer ball from knee to foot to head and so on. She was very good, but still, kicking a ball in the kitchen should have been an obvious no-no, especially for a fifteen-year-old.

"Rachel, perhaps you shouldn't..."

"Lighten up, Mr. K. I'm not going to break anything."

"Rachel, really—"

And that, of course, was when she broke something. A pair of glasses with the vestiges of ice and soda in them shattered on the floor as the ball impacted them. I grimaced, unable to do anything to stop it.

"Oh! Oh, Mr. K., I'm so sorry, I..."

Maureen and the girls came in, worried someone had been hurt. It was only a matter of minutes to clean the broken glass. Rachel kept looking at me and Maureen as we cleaned.

"Perhaps," I said, picking up the ball, "that's enough of this for now."

Maureen and the girls went back to the den and I waited for Rachel to follow, but she gave me a funny look.

"Mr. K., aren't you going to spank me?"

"Uh..." I wanted to. I really wanted to. And I couldn't say that she didn't deserve it.

"I... I kinda' deserve it. Don't I?" her words echoing my thoughts, "I mean, you told me to stop and I didn't..."

I bit down hard on my imaginings and gave a small smile instead. "I suppose, if you really want to be spanked, you could ask Maureen. Or I could tell your mom."

Rachel put her hands to her bottom, looking more like a little girl than a confident teenager. "No. No... that's okay. I'll just be really sorry instead."

We joined the little girls in the den to watch them singing karaoke. Initially I refused to join in, but eventually the girls cajoled me into it. I sang "The River" by Garth Brooks.

As nine-thirty rolled around and the girls were getting ready for bed, my wife asked, "So, are you going to spank her?"

I shook my head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's kind of a rush," she admitted quietly. "I don't really like it, I don't really want to hurt them or make them cry, but it's kind of... exciting." She shivered "Weird, huh?"

"Well, I think I'd like it a little too much," I said, and I patted her hip for emphasis. There was a part of me that wanted to hurt them, to make them cry, to spank them long and hard. I made me numb to think on it.

"Hmm." She leaned into me and we cuddled on the couch.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep. It happens more often in the summer, which is fortunate, because it means I can take a walk around the block and figure out what errant thought woke me. On this night, it wasn't difficult to determine. I had spankings on the brain.

On the far side of the block, on my second time around, I noticed a car that hadn't been there before. I recognized it though I'd only seen it a few times, it was Elizabeth's boyfriend's car. I hadn't met the boy, but I was pretty sure he didn't live on this block. So, why had they parked here rather than in front of the Smith's house?

A moment later, I realized the reason and blushed.

I'm not a particularly nosy person. I figure if Elizabeth wants to stop around the block with her boyfriend in the dark, it's none of my business. But my usual route would take me right by the car, so I just kept walking, all casual like. And when I was next to the car, I couldn't help but take a peek. Sure enough, a pair of shadowy teens, lit indirectly by a nearby street lamp, were engaging in heavy petting in the back seat.

But I also noticed that one of the shadowy teens was pushing at the other and groping for the door. I hesitated, not sure I was seeing things right, not wanting to interrupt if they were just fooling around. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of Elizabeth's voice.

"James, I said stop."

I gave the boyfriend a beat to do as he'd been told, and when he didn't, I grabbed the door handle and jerked it open. Elizabeth tumbled out of the car to the sidewalk. Her boyfriend, James, jumped back like I'd burned him.

I gave him my best angry teacher glare. "Go home."

As he scrambled to the front seat, I helped Elizabeth to her feet. Her clothes were in a state of disarray, her tank top pulled down her shoulders, her bra unhooked, her shorts halfway down her hips. I couldn't help but get an eyeful of her dark breasts and darker nipples, the swell of her hips clad in skimpy panties. I turned away as she righted herself. I watched James start his car and drive off without looking back.

After a few moments, I said, "Uh... Elizabeth..."

"Just walk me home, Mr. K. Please?"

I turned to look at her. She was steadfastly looking at the sidewalk.

"Sure."

It was a short, silent walk around the block, and we stood in front of the Smith house in a matter of minutes. There were many things I wanted to say, and I'd tried to prepare a fatherly speech as we walked, but she preempted me.

"Are you going to spank me?" she asked quietly.

"No."

"Are you going to tell my mom?"

"No. If you want to fool around with boys in back seats, that's none of my business. I... I got the impression he was going too far. I hope I didn't interrupt anything you didn't want me to interrupt."

She shook her head.

I sighed, relieved. "Even so, Elizabeth, I just hope you'll be careful."

Elizabeth crossed her arms in a pout. "Mom had me when she was my age."

I shrugged. "That sounds like an attempt at justifying bad behavior.

"If she can make mistakes, why can't I?"

I was quickly getting out of my depth and wanted to end the conversation and go back to bed, but that last comment irritated me.

"Your mother has five wonderful daughters. You think that was a mistake? I don't know where your father is, and it's none of my business, but I think you need to give your mother more credit."

Elizabeth set her jaw. "Goodnight, Mr. K."

I watched her walk to the front door and made sure she got in the house before I went back to my own house.

When I slipped into bed, Maureen woke drowsily. I nuzzled her neck and she pressed into me. I ran my hands down to her hips and kissed her cheek, and she kissed me back before saying, "What time is it?"

"Just after midnight."

"Hmm." She pulled me close. "This kids are asleep. Do you want sex, my love?"

I banished my worries about Elizabeth and kissed my wife.


	7. Chapter 7

Ever since I was a kid, I'd always wanted to spank a girl: to pull her over my lap, to pull down her panties, and to spank her until she cried. Even though I knew how awful it was to get a spanking, I always wanted to give one, and I always knew that wanting it was dangerous. But I figured that so long as I kept my imaginings to fiction and my kink between me and my wife, it was fine. I could imagine it all I wanted, so long as I never acted on it.

Two weeks into summer vacation, two weeks after the Smiths moved in next door, two weeks after my niece had been dropped off with us for the summer, I spanked a girl.

Isabel's mom (Karen) and dad (Chris) were going through a divorce. Her father had cheated on her mother the previous winter. There was some pretty nasty name calling on both sides and her mother sunk into depression. She'd given Isabel to us for the summer so she could get her stuff sorted. Her soon-to-be ex-husband wasn't making things easy. He was contending that Karen's depression made her an unfit mother, among other things.

Isabel talked to her dad often, nearly every afternoon. Despite everything, she loved him. I don't know if she understood what an asshole he was, but even if she did, he was still her father.

It was a hot, lazy, Sunday afternoon. Much of the morning had been spent swimming or bouncing on the trampoline. I'd even gotten in the pool for a while, and I hated swimming. Mrs. Smith had fed us lunch at around eleven and then we all decided it was too hot to continue swimming and we'd just eaten after all. When little Anna fell asleep at the table we decided that a nap might be best. I carried Anna to the room she shared with Jade. When I went back downstairs, I found that my wife had fallen asleep in front of the television with Mrs. Smith.

"I was going to go home and get some writing done," I said quietly.

Mrs. Smith nodded. "I think everyone's gone to their rooms. I don't mind if Mo sleeps here."

Even when it's just me and Maureen, it's rare that I'll have the house to myself. I like being alone. I don't hate people and I don't want to be alone all the time, but I treasure my alone time. I was just settling in to write when I heard a loud thump from downstairs. Thinking I was alone in the house, I investigated cautiously. The thump came again. By the time I realized the sound was coming from the guest bedroom, the thump came a third time, rattling the door.

I opened the door and found Isabel, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her face tear-stained and red-cheeked and screwed up in fury. She'd been kicking the door and managed to crack it at the hinges. Isabel looked at me, gritted her teeth, and kicked me right in the shin.

I cursed and stumbled, and Isabel ran to the bed and laid face down, sobbing hysterically. Limping, I walked into the room and sat down beside her, rubbing her back gently. It took a few minutes for her to quiet, and in the meantime, I noticed her cellphone, broken, on the floor beneath a dent in the wall.

"I hate my daddy," Isabel screamed into the bed once she had her tears under control.

I didn't know what to say, so I just rubbed her back until she sat up.

"He's moving to Florida with a new wife," she said, now more sad than mad.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Are you mad at me for breaking the door?"

I shrugged. "I can install a new one."

"What about the wall? You can't install a new wall."

"I can repair it."

"But... But I kicked you really hard."

"It's fine—"

Isabel slugged me in the ribs. Though she was just eleven, it still hurt. "How come you never spank us? How come only Aunt Maureen and Mrs. Smith spank us?"

I had no response. I wasn't about to tell her the truth and couldn't think of a good lie. Perhaps a half-truth would do. "I'm not sure it's appropriate for..."

But Isabel started crying again. Through the sobs and tears, she wailed, "Daddy's moving and now I don't have a daddy anymore!" She dissolved into tears again, and I hugged her.

A few more minutes later, she said, "But really, why?"

"Hmm?" I'd lost the thread of the conversation. I'd been wondering if I really could install a new door or if I'd have to hire it done. I'd thought there must be an instructional video on the Internet somewhere.

"Why don't you spank? Don't you believe in spanking?"

I blushed. Really, I didn't consider spanking to be an effective or appropriate disciplinary method, and every study I'd ever read said it was bad for kids.

"I'm just not sure a man spanking a girl is a very good idea."

"Why not?"

I gave a sort of half a shrug.

"So, I could just do whatever I wanted and you wouldn't spank me?"

"Let's not put that to the test."

She slugged me in the ribs again.

I grunted and gave her my best angry teacher look. "You really want me to spank you?"

She looked suddenly contrite and small, but she nodded.

"You know spankings hurt, right?"

Nod.

"If I spank you, it will be on your bare bottom."

Nod.

I really hadn't expected that, but to suddenly back off seemed... weak I guess. Which is a terrible excuse and an even worse reason to give a spanking. But I wanted to; I really, really wanted to, and she was inviting it. She wanted me to, though for different reasons, reasons she probably didn't fully understand herself.

I took Isabel by the shoulders and pulled her down over my lap.

She was smaller than I expected, and lighter. She was wearing a pair of light, blue, summer shorts with an elastic band. My fingers trembling and my jaw clenched, I grabbed the band and pulled her shorts over her little bottom and down her pale, skinny legs. Her panties were mint green and worn enough to have develop three little holes at the waistband. These too I pulled down. The skin of her bottom goosepimpled. I put my left hand on her lower back. I swallowed hard.

This was what I'd wanted for years, but my whole body seized up, my shoulders ached and I realized I wasn't breathing. My vision went grey. For a moment that stretched into forever, I could not believe what I was doing, that I'd let it get this far. I took in a deep, shuddering breath and my vision cleared.

I spanked Isabel sharply, but not particularly hard. A faint, blotchy handprint appeared on her bottom and quickly faded. Isabel squeaked. I spanked her again and watched the handprint appear and fade again. Isabel squirmed. I spanked her again and this time the pinkness remained. My blood roared in my ears and my whole body ached.

"Owie..."

I realized that this wasn't whatever I thought it might have been. It wasn't fun, it wasn't sexy, it wasn't interesting, it was just a grown man smacking a little girl over and over again while she struggled and yelped. But I spanked her anyway, fifteen sharp swats, until her pale little bottom was pink and she cried. I pulled up her panties and shorts and she hugged me before saying she was tired and wanted a nap.

I returned to my study, my mind and body abuzz—terrified and revolted and thrilled.


End file.
